Crops and Robbers by Paige Shelton Page A

and store it in the barn, which the cleaners had left spotless.
    “They did okay in here?” Sam asked as he handed me some jars of blueberry jam.
    “Yes, they did great. I’m pretty picky and I couldn’t find a problem anywhere.”
    “Good. When were you planning on getting the door frame and lock fixed?” he asked as he peered under the appliances.
    “Ian and my dad—well, maybe just Ian now—were planning on doing it tomorrow.”
    “That works. I don’t see anything in here that might have been missed. I’d like to walk the perimeter of the property, up to the tree line. Still want to come with me?”
    “Are you kidding? I’d love to see how the pros do this.”
    Sam laughed. “Remember, I’m not here officially. I’m not following any protocol except going where my curiosity leads me.”
    “Right,” I said. “But I know you well enough to know you’re always on the job even when you’re not on the job.”
    “Maybe.” Sam smiled. “Come on, let’s walk.”
    We made our way up the small slope of land where my crops were allowed to flourish and thrive. I wished I understood the chemistry that took place in the soil I’d been blessed with, but it was a mystery. I got lucky maybe? Maybe my uncle Stanley and aunt Ruth had prepped the soil, the land? I didn’t know, but until my luck ran out and I quit growing juicy berries and large, gorgeous pumpkins, I would be grateful for what I’d been given.
    “So, you still upset about Joan’s harsh treatment?” Sam asked as we reached the top of the slope, where we could survey a wooded area to one side, my property to another, and the rest of the world off at an angle.
    “You’re here to question me, under the guise of surveying my property?” I asked. Was that the real reason he’d stopped by, so he could sneak in an interrogation?
    He put his hands on his hips and looked at me sternly. “Becca, when have I ever needed to use cloak-and-dagger techniques to question someone? I take that as an insult. No, I wasn’t questioning you. In fact, I was going to offer some friendly words of encouragement like she didn’t know what she was talking about, or you can’t please all the people all the time. I was thinking of adding in a baseball analogy, too: you can’t hit it out of the park every time you’re up, kid. I was also going to mention that I know you didn’t kill her and you shouldn’t beat yourself up for having ill will toward someone who insulted you even if they have been murdered. I was going to throw in something about human nature, too.”
    We looked at each other a long moment; the sun was at our sides and I could see the blue of only one of his eyes. He wasn’t insulted or angry. For a moment I wished he was. There was something else going on, something that caused him pain, something that had to do with the way he was looking at me. For an instant, a time shorter than the smallest fraction of a second, I wanted to lean into that look and explore the possibility that was there.
    And that was wrong. Even that small amount of temptation caused guilt to spread through my gut. I was with Ian. Through two marriages, two bad marriages, I had never cheated, physically or emotionally, on either of my husbands. I didn’t think it was something I had in me, but I’d just realized a new part of me, and I didn’t like it.
    Things change in an instant, Becca, Allison would say.
    I looked away and laughed. “Well, okay then, if you say so.” I started walking along the top of the slope. A beat or two later, he followed.
    And we both acted like neither of us had noticed—whatever that had been.
    We walked together mostly silently as Sam looked at everything and I watched him. It wasn’t until we made it to the area behind the barn—a space that was thick with brush—that he spoke again.
    “This spot has been on my mind since yesterday. See, it looks like someone or something might have leaned right here,” Sam said as he crouched and